A met match
by jezmind
Summary: A brand new threat looms on Aruluen, the itilinese, the fierce fighting men of the north. the special ops group that Crowley formed is sent to Skandia, to find it in ruins. alliances must be formed, to stop the unstoppable. rated T cos I'm unsure. enjoy
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Writers note: this is my first fanfic, I wanted to do this to improve my writing skills, I'm a big fan of this series and have tried to make it as accurately as possible to the rangers universe, complete with a new nation based off the way Flanigon creates his nations.**

**I would love some yummy reviews, they make this story a priority, which could get to a chapter a day state, letting us finish this story within a month :) **

** if you haven't read any of the rangers books (1-11) spoiler alert i want to make references to everything add bait of nostalgia for you all, this is years after, so, yeah, there should be an appearance of all of major characters, enjoy :)**

Horace sighed. These men where excellent, in perfect unison, perfect discipline, and also, perfect form. One on one, they were vicious, quick, skilled and deadly, Very deadly. They were the legionnaires, men that were raised to fight since they could walk, in every discipline a man could learn; shooting, spear throwing, sword fighting, and unarmed combat.

He was in the country of Itilaner, a recently discovered race that the Silesian commission quickly sent embasitors to collect royal signs and presses for. Under the treaty of recons, that king Duncan recently formed with italinese, a few expert fighters from both nations from would be sent to each other to analyze military might. For Horace, this had been his third military mission, so protocol was easily picked up upon.

Horace stared, once again, at the ensemble of men in front of him, they were brilliant in every way, but he needed to know just how well. "General lageine! Can I speak with you?" he said in the common tongue.

"ALL STOP" said the general; every man stopped their actions, and stood fast, awaiting orders. "At ease men" and they stood easier a small murmur from one man to another, but general silence.

"General, I wish to know just how good your best man is with the sword, I wish to spar with one" Horace said in an under-tone, the general grinned, so far this young man simply watched his soldiers, in perfection, performing drills, tactical moves and positions, but not there sword skill, he'd be in for a surprise, he thought.

In truth, Horace knew a fair bit of Italinese fighting, both of which, he was suppose to see, and what he shouldn't of.

While being prince of castle Araluen had some responsibility's, but there was seldom little to do, the country had been at peace for some time, he had gone past the expertise of all of the sword masters of Araluen and kept his sword skill to that level. But he wanted to learn something new, so over the years, he would take extended leave to Redmont, to seek tut-age in silent and unseen movement. Some years previous he had the enjoyment of being able to wear halts camouflage cloak, and as one of he's gifts that halt got him, was, to his thorough enjoyment, a cloak, that was his size. Although he went to whiteby fief for instruction of the sword from Gillian, he also asked about unseen movement. And he now became quite the sneaker, he thought.

So for the month he stayed in the battle schools of itilaner, at night, he would put his cloak on. And sneak around to see the privet instruction that was given to men who were talented in the art of swordplay. What he saw was not foreign, but impressive none of the less, he knew what he was up against. And he knew that none here was a massive threat, he knew many styles of sword art, and even indulged in learning the art of the senshi blade, the katana, and incorporated it into his own style.

Horace's thoughts snapped back into focus "you won't be disappointed, ci Horace" the general replied, with a stilted common tongue, and a wolfish grin. " In fact, I myself, will face you in a spar of swordplay". A non-humorous smile was what Horace replied with, "You wont be disappointed either, general," thought Horace grimly.

* * *

That night he got himself equipped, recently he had visited shigeru in nihon-ja and had been given the gift of a senshi katana, shorter then a normal sword it was thinner but still to the standard of nihon-ja master smiths, it was meant to be worn on the back, across the shoulder blade, for easy unsheathing, his shield, usually a bigger then the one he wore, he recently acquired a well made skandian shield, but it was big and lumber some, meant for open battle, today he was wearing a smaller spanion-shield, designed with expertly tempered metals able to block the mightiest of swords. At his waist was the familiar shape and feel of his sword, crafted by a long time friend, perfectly balanced. A sudden wave of calmness swept over him. He was ready.

* * *

As he walked down the corridor to the arena that was built in the battle school, he once again marveled at the beauty of such a place, all of the government buildings were made with no wood but stone, carved pillars that would tower three Horace's above himself. There were no doors in Itelian but instead cloth drooped over in its place.

Walking into the courtyard where the battle would take place he saw many of the soldiers were perhaps thirty, were clean-shaven and had shaved heads, creating a certain uniform.

All men were named like so: 1a17

You would be in the first legionnaire of the A legion unit of the seventeenth platoon. You weren't a person in Itelian if you didn't have a number. And you didn't have a number if you weren't trained in the army, the result? Slaves and women were dirt. Every italinese man was a soldier by trade, politically eligible by the age of 40 and ascended in the same ranking system of the military. It's effective, but harsh.

As he walked into the circle he saw the general standing there, a shield that was rectangular and had a star, indicating rank, his sword was a plain steal temper, around his waist, and a battle spear in his hand.

The rules were spoken, with an indifference that only formality could deliver but in the corner of his eye, he saw last minute bets made. The rules were simple, no neck shots, or vital body shots. The battle lasted until yield was called.

Horace was calm, circling his opponent, sending an ever so slight feign in one direction, to test the generals reaction, the feign was obvious, and purposely so, it was to draw his opponent out. The general made his feign also, but not as smooth, as it was with a war spear. Horace saw something; it's been his hand. Fidgeting, the man was a short sword fighter. Horace decided to show the general how silly he was to make a lumber-sum log a shield. He quickly dashed in, inside the range of the gruesome war spear, rendering it useless. He was mistaken; the general was prepared, already digging his spear in the ground hiding behind his shield. But it was a trick; Horace realized and quickly danced backwards, with the gracefulness of a dancer. The big shield was a trick, there were two leather thongs attached to a smaller shield, a man would carry the smaller shield, attached to the bigger shield, that could be quickly be detached. The resulting general hopped out side the cover of the barricade-like shield. With a small shield, and his short sword drawn, swinging it in experimental arcs, he was winning this battle.

Horace grinned, this is what he came for, he knew that the legions had a knack of making tricky battle preparations, there were three weapons they would carry, a sword, war spear, and short sword, and be masters at all of them. The man was wickedly fast, he was a professional, he was born and raised to fight, senior to Horace in years, and experience.

The man circled with Horace in quick and weary circles, "this man is strange" he thought. "How can he stand against me being tricked about my style three times, and sitting here as cool as a cucumber?" he was not sure of Horace's ability, though he assumed it would be good, or at least adequate. He decided he needed to test Horace's abilities, he quickly lashed out, with a sequence taught to him since he was five, and was retained in his head till this very day. He lunged forward with his short sword quickly twisting his wrist so the sword flicked up at his opponents face, easily parry-able, followed by a side step and a back hand and forehand stroke, the replied parries were done with an ease known only as contemptuous.

Horace smiled, this man was quick, he liked men who were quick, they were a finer fight. Horace decided he would draw out the fight as much as possible, to assess all the abilities of this man. Horace quickly replied with a deadly movement of a sweeping blow, replied by a hasty block from the mans shield, reversing the grip and using a senshi grip to finish four devastating blows, that were a blur of motion. They were all blocked, only just. Horace decided he had one more ploy to try.

General lageine was panting. This man was toying with him! He was deadly skilled, he knew techniques that were very foreign, not even to his knowledge did he see some kind of reverse grip like that. Well, he needed to do something. Lageine decided to attack textbook style, hitting textbook combinations of strokes, hoping to make up for skill with his astonishing speed that he always relied on in battle. And it worked! The man was faltering in his blocks, losing his ground, this was his match.

Horace kept his face in a frown of concentration, feigning a sense of worry. Deep down he was smiling, he was playing with this mans mind, getting him to make desperate moves, and to see what he would do when he thought he had the fight under control. Stroke after stroke, his shield was becoming weaker, he wanted to make all appearance of loosing a battle, and he wanted to see what the man would do. The man was fit, he was strong and athletic able to keep a constant barrage of sword strokes.

"So" Horace thought "there all very fit, that's evident, he doesn't seem to slow, now, lets finish this show now." and Horace did something that would frightened any man when he was in a fight thinking he was winning, he smiled.

Horace also did something else, he undid his shield, and slid it off at the same time as the next strike, making a stumble in the mans rhythm, Horace drew his katana and his sword, doing something he invented, the hybrid wield, now with blindingly fast speed, he released a labyrinth of strokes, dazzlingly fast, extremely complicated. Stabbing with reaping in the other hand, the general saw that he had now way of defeating this man, he was blindingly fast, and with no reprieve, this man was not only fast, he was inconceivably complex, his moves and strokes varying in speed and velocity, strokes, Horace could tell you, that were drawn from Galician and Hibernian, and even from Nihon-ja art forms of the sword. The man actually trembled under the weight and quick speed of Horace's strokes, he was defeated, he knew. "YEILD, I YEILD PLEASE!" lageine gasped.

Horace stopped mid stroke and offered the man his hand, as he had fell on the ground. "You fought well today general. I'm honored to have of fought against you." Horace said in front of a completely astonished crowd, Horace bowed, and left the room.

* * *

The day after Horace left Itelian. He needed to get home. Quickly.

**the reason why will be soon, there will be some rich back storying, hopefully, remember to review, it will inspire me to push pass any writers block, and give me super human strength, kinda like coffee is to the rangers, and spinach is to pop-eye (yeah, i went there)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, I know that to this place female OC rangers are really cliché, but I recently heard that the 12****th**** rangers apprentice would have a girl in it, so I decided to go ahead and do one. Don't worry though, I've already planned her to be a rich character, that isn't just based of some friend of mine, but that's chapter 3.**

Chapter 2

The forest of Redmont was filled with the all too familiar sound of a repetitive thump, Lena thought, it was, of course, her doing, as she drew her arm back once again. She was practicing, hitting targets, none too close to her, switching angles, all in a random direction.

"Never hit targets in the same order, or you'll start to measure your aim off your last shot, that will never make you an instinctive shot"

that's what will said, she remembered as she walked down the lane to her targets, they were all clustered around the small yellow ring in the middle, but she took her time doing it, she thought, she was never the best at her shots, not the standard that will sought, she knew, bringing up another one of the rangers sayings in her head:

"An archer practices until he gets it right, a ranger practices until he never gets it wrong"

She was practicing archery more then any of the other skills needed to make a Ranger, during the night, the weekends and even in her holidays. Little did she know that she was, apart from Rangers, at a standard of archery that little of Aruluens possess.

Little did she all so know, that there was a cloaked figure rested on the base of a tree, looking like he was dozing. Of course, this was defiantly not the case, the mans eyes where moving, beneath his cowl, constantly studying Lena's technique, any faults, he would tell her about. He knew that Lena was almost embarrassed about the level of skill in her shots; however, she was simply self-conscious, why? Because she was the only female ranger to ever be apart of the corps, she was all too aware of the criticism will received when she was taken as his apprentice. Only was it when the ranger halt stepped in did people quiet down.

The man under the cowl of the cloak was Will, in fact. He grinned as he remembered the first time he showed Lena her weapons, a longbow; a Rangers bread and butter, and two knives. The little crestfallen face of the girl was evident when she saw them, a bow? She thought? How can I ever shoot one of those?

Lena took to the two knives like a duck to water, she had used them most of her life as a kid, as self defense. The first time Will showed her how to throw the knives, she unsheathed them straight away, took a step back and aimed at a log, and threw. Hitting the log a little off center, a little taken aback, Will asked for to do it again, with the same result. She wasn't quite as accurate as any fully-fledged ranger, but she wasn't in need of as much practice as with the bow. Wills smile widened, he showed her the knives first, as he knew she had some experience with them, but with the confidence that comes only with success, she picked up the bow and said "can i fire an arrow?". Will replied with the raising of a single eyebrow and said, straight faced "if you think that's a good idea".

The resulting situation sent a flurry of nostalgia through him as he heard the cry of Lena, "ow, it bit me" she said. He pointed to his wrist, with the traces of a smirk on his face, "see this, on my arm?". Sure enough, an arm guard was there. And so, with plenty of patience lena was taught the skill of archery, and set off to practice.

Short-range fast and accurate archery was commonplace for a ranger, but a ranger also succeeded in ranges that were of an extreme range, in some cases, 400 meters, once Lena saw Will do this, but only Will, and only once. She walked over to the longer-ranged ranges, 150 meters away, were targets. Lena took a breath and drew back and was about to release when she heard a voice " just a tad higher, Lena". She obeyed. And the shot was perfect. The voice was her mentors, Will.

"Ah, I didn't know there where sneaky rangers in the area" said Lena, peevishly. Purposely missing the joke will said "we wouldn't be any good as a ranger if we went around, announcing our selves to the world".

"Anyway, your shots are getting better, you need to start speeding them up though, dinners ready, and Alyss is here" Will said.

The walk back to the cabin was uneventful and short. Will insisted that they would practice moving through the forest from shadowy patch to shadowy patch, blending in with their surroundings. Will moved quickly and silently like a wraith, with apparent ease, blending so well that the indistinct shape of will would blend easily with the surroundings, scaring Lena. "How do you do it?" she said. Will bellowed, "Well for a start, we don't walk around the forest bellowing at the top of our lungs saying, "how do you do it?""

The cabin, if one would call it that, was recently extended, to accommodate three people and a dog. Alyss, who was on missions most of the time, would come and stay for extended periods of time. From the stable, tug and Lena's horse, Florence, nickered their greeting and Alyss her own "I thought I heard a bear in the forest, yelling loud words, oh, and hello Lena, didn't see you there".

"So how was Hibernia?" Lena asked. "I didn't know that my royal, and also secret mission, was common knowledge?" replied Alyss quizzically, nursing her coffee.

"Yes Lena, why were you looking at my documents?" will say.

An eyebrow rose.

"Those certain secret-royal mission documents were laying on the table" Lena said, straight faced. Will quickly looked down at his coffee crestfallen, surveying the contents of his revered drink, though it was near full, Will decided that there was a need for a new boiled jug.

"Coffee anyone?" will said, unsuccessfully changing the conversation. The reply was without words but the meaning was portrayed with the raising of an all too familiar eyebrow.

"I think we need music then."

After a few hours of dinner, coffee, light chit chat and will bringing his mandola out, Lena was finally beckoned to go to sleep, after, of course, she was to clean the resulting mess of dishes and mugs.

Alyss, ever the diplomat, decided that her time to share secrets would start now.

**I'm just going to put it out there that I would like some reviews, there easy for you to write, and heavenly for me to receive, also, major things will start to happen maybe chapter 5, but I'm planning on how to have a lot of things for you to figure out. Keep you guessing, so reviewing will make this story a priority for me, cheers **


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok all, first I want to give a big thanks to Bralt, you're amazing. Thank you for giving me the reviews for my story, that was amazing, I followed your advice and gave this chapter a more thorough read through, and if anyone would like to give me advice in my writing, that's what I started doing this for. If you're a reader of this I need to explain why I'm going back in time. I've had this story in my head for roughly a month and then I discovered this website, and BAM! I found I can be an author, anyway the story is going to get complex, I hope. I want you to get a thorough picture of the italinese, and to celebrate my 2 reviews, 2 chapters are being released today. Happy? **

Chapter 3

6 months earlier

Halt surveyed the land around him, worried. He was in the eastern steps, under the general defense treaty between Aruluens and Skandia, rangers were sent to regularly scout the Temanjai, to inform Skandia of the vicious riders movements, weather they were going to attack, numbers of troops, and a general sense of the Temanjai.

What worried halt was the fact that there wasn't any Temanjai anywhere, they were the most feared fighting nation ever to exist. Why then did they simply disappear? To be honest, halt knew why, the village that he had been to the before this one was in the same state, debris. Ash wafted through the sky and covered the ground in a sooty mass, "so, this is recent." Halt mused to himself. Abelard nickered _did you say something? _"No, just talking to myself, don't mind me" the ranger said absently. _Well if you need to talk, I'm all ears;_ the ranger horse seemed to say.

He knew that when villagers were burnt down, it was for two reasons, one, to settle a rather nasty family feud between one nation and another, or, which may unfortunately be the case, to cover tracks of a massive force, it was a skandian technique, he knew as he hopped down from Abelard giving him the free sign, allowing the horse to stay in the general vicinity. The skandian technique of burning a village, seldom used by them now, was to cover their tracks, on a particularly windy day, the smoke and ash would spread perhaps 2-3 leagues, spreading and covering tracks in the area, but that only worked after a day or two, these were fresh, very fresh.

He saw the catastrophe written to him in the form of footprints, he looked down, seeing a small set of footprints, perhaps a female about the age of a mother, running two or three meters to another, smaller set of footprints, a child. A small depression in the earth there showed where the child was picked up by the mother, as the mothers footprints were deeper due to extra weight, the women ran into a small barn. Suddenly he noticed a larger set of footprints in the ground, a sandaled man, seeing there was grooves in the earth where his foot was, he went out of his way to follow the women and her child, walking in a contemptuous stride and co-incidentally, there was a darkened stain in the ground, blood.

"ATABI!" yelled a man, roughly 500 meters to halts left; he looked up, drawn from his pensive state. There were twelve men, yelling the words that he knew meaning of, Atabi was Temanj' for ranger, these men were scouts, perhaps raised in the village he was in, seeing the remains of the village, seeing the ranger, drawing a possible conclusion.

Halt was galvanized into action, honed by his many years of training. He found cover two meters two the left, gave his horse the signal to find cover also. He quickly loosed three arrows, downing as many men in as many seconds, four men stopped running and drew there own recurve bows; now in extreme range. They were dangerous, but now Because of halt there were only two of the four that were left. Halt ducked as two impending arrows thudded into the weakened wood that was halts cover, shattering into pieces. He quickly headed for a different part of the village as cover; he downed the other two archers while he ran, there were six left, five he needed to kill, and one he needed to keep alive. They remaining five decided it was a better idea to find cover also. Halt quickly re-emerged, drawing and firing at three more, and taking note at where the other three were. One was closest, about thirty meters two his right, just past his first position was, the other two were behind a small ensemble of corpses.

He decided to use one of his new arrows; the striker 2.0, built for the same purpose as a striker was, but in the form of an arrow, easily effective at fifty yards, he calmed himself, he needed to get this man in the neck or behind the ear, at half draw weight, in order to not kill him but incapacitate him. Which required double the height raised by his bow to compensate for the lower power. He smoothly drew his bow, thinking of a nihon-jian proverb "slow is smooth, smooth is fast" he smiled as he released, the shot to the neck was perfect, the man sagged to the ground making a half scream as he did so. Out of the corner of halts eye he saw one of the two men behind the cover of corpses draw his arms back.

Halt decided he would replicate what will did a few years back, taking a step to the side, quickly measuring angles as the arrow careered to his position, his reflexes, as fast as any, caught the arrow by the fletching. Then halt felt the weight of the arrow instinctively testing it, it would work fine on his bow, he drew back and aimed at the man who had just saw halt catch his very arrow and send it back to him. He was in so much shock that the arrow hit him square in the chest with out him fully realizing the threat, he went down silently, making a slight gasp. The other man tried to go up for another shot, as soon as his head popped up it met the company of an arrow into his throat. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Return to sender" halt said, he sighed as he sat down, bracing for the wave of pain that hit his back. No matter how fit a man could keep himself, age always seemed to be the victor, he thought, he looked down at his beard, greying more then it was black. He could always dye it, knowing that it would take years away from his aged visage, but it would not take away from the deep wiriness that he contained. He knew he was getting older, that age where other Rangers would think he should consider getting the gold. He still had plenty more left though; he wasn't giving up on will.

He gave the follow signal to Abelard who nickered, _if you were on me you wouldn't of had to have killed them all_

he seemed to say. "Well one of them will be useful to me, he may know something I need to know" the rangers horse shook his head, _after what you did to him with that arrow he may not like you_.

"He'll forgive me, I'm sure, I'm a likable person if you get to know me" Halt replied, giving a wolfish grin. _The horse replied not if you throwing someone in a moat is called likable, then I'm a mule_ Halt realized that he would never get the last word with this horse as they walked towards the victim of his striker arrow. The horse snorted; _not likely_ he seemed to say. "I didn't even say anything to you!" halt said, astonished. _You don't have to_ the horse said. Halt grabbed his prisoner a little taken aback by his horse. The man had a while before he arose from his placid state. Halt decided coffee would be nice, so he found some wood that wasn't affected by the past fire.

The man awoke finding himself itchy on his nose, he tried to scratch it finding himself unable to do so; his hands were tied.

Halt walked toward him, sipping his beloved drink, and sighing appreciatively, halt spoke in a fluent Temanjai accent to his captive "why are your villages burnt like this, scout?"

The man replied slightly horse, as he had been breathing in ash into his lungs, he coughed and replied "who are you Atabi?" the scout said. The ranger chuckled into his cup, taking a sip. "I'm called halt," he said in the Common tongue but in Temanj' he said "you may know me as leretz cul sha' nerough" which literally meant "the man who stole the horses" for which Halt was known for many a year ago. The scout gasped "your the cursed Atabi, you're-" halt interrupted him "- the man who is holding you captive, you also may know that I have a knife that I'm not afraid to use on you, now, tell me why your villages are burnt to the ground, its been ten years, you should be close to mounting an invasion soon" he indicated to the stables "your stables should be overflowing with horses, your men should be everywhere."

The man looked down, seeing halts purpose "we were overrun by a highly organized force, they came by ships that held a hundred men a ship, there were thousands of them, they . . .They slaughtered us with ease and we don't have many defensive buildings. We don't get attacked like others do. They were simply one massive force . . . they slaughtered us. They're the, the dreaded legions" Halt knew who he was talking about, he also knew that Horace was the best person to talked to, he needed to get to Aralan Quickly, the special ops will need to be formed again. "Ok, I'm taking your weapons from you, and your horse, I'm getting out of here." he added " without a Temanjai force up my backside" in response to the begging look from the man, who quickly conceded to the point.

Halt quickly went to the rendezvous he had with a skandian wolf ship, the tigerwolf. He stepped aboard, it was built for a horse to easily get on and off the ship, opening at the bowl with two doors to keep it watertight, one after the other. Halt walked to the skirl, which was named Ernie toughelm "we need to get to Aralan, quickly. The situation is bad"

"What about Skandia? They will need to know quickly." the skirl interceded. Halt was ready for that "we will use the Sicilian fast message service as soon as we hit Tuetland here," he pointed at Tuetland on the table. They were in the captains quarters, were a stylized table stood, holding the known world and its continents. "But this threat is impending, it will come, but planned action is needed more." halt said quelling his doubts. "Fair enough, but I don't like it, what ever it is. Halt you seem a little off color, are you-" halt cut him off from the mere sight of his eyes " just shut up and get going, and by chance could I borrow you helmet?" the skandian replied "sure. Wait, why would you want to do- no . . . actually I think I'm fine without giving it to you." and so they set off.

**See that blue button there? Press it it'll make me happy, I promise. Please review, it'll make this story a priority in my life. Cheers **


	4. Chapter 4

**I want to make sure everyone knows that this is a dream, once again I want to give you a better understanding of Lena's background so you will maybe come to like her, once again read and review.**

Lena stirred in her sleep She was in the the town square of Redmont for what seemed to be the 1000th time; it was night, hair fair brown hair, knotted and dirty from neglect whistled across her face from the wind that haunted the night.

She had just left the local pub, _the bird in hand, _and had just had made her earnings for the night. Though, It wasn't because she worked there. She was a street urchin, making a living any way she could, she hated being seen by anyone, so instinctively, she had learnt how blend in with her surroundings, making little noise, and making herself an uninteresting person to look at in crowds, that's why the pub is a profitable place, in the dingy lit rooms of the _bird in hand _she was able to pick pocket many around her, they were all mostly drunk, and wouldn't notice as she took small amounts of money from there purses. She was ethical about it, she only took what she needed, and only little bits of what she needed from each person, a silver royal here, a silver royal there, no one would notice, as she ate from the bird in hand, the staff were in on it. The man, Rufus, would take kindly to her stealing little bits of change from his customers, but only once a week, it was really his money anyway, it would've become drink money for his customers.

Seen by no one, loved by no one, cared for her by no one. Except by her horse, Florence. She was by accident, able to find the paddocks of the horses ridden by the infamous ranger corps. As part of their training, their horses would be taught their code word for the ability to use there horse, but only once they were needed by a ranger, the paddock, after all, was suppose to be hidden anyway.

Florence was told that she could graze in a paddock outside the village while Lena went and found herself some money.

Lena now found herself walking down a short and narrow alleyway, coincidently; she had been in these exact spot thousands of times before. It was dark, and smelt of mold. Lena walked down the alleyway, finding it to be a dead end, she sighed, turning back when three men appeared at the end of the alleyway, blocking her path. She looked at the three; they were obviously there to do something, something bad.

"Hello gorgeous, what are you doing here?" said the man on the left of Lena; his words slurred carrying the stench of alcohol on his words. The man in the center walked towards her, with a slight stumble, he also smelled of alcohol he got close to Lena, breathing heavily "I think you should come with us" he said, baring a smile with teeth that showed the symptoms' of teeth that were not well cared for, one being a victim to a lifetime of decay.

Lena drew her dagger; quickly knocking the first man out with the hilt of his dagger, the man, shocked, fell on the ground. She twirled the dagger experimentally, it wasn't well balanced, but she could manage. She threw the dagger at the men two meters from her on the left. It hit him in his shoulder at the start of the pectoral muscle, he screamed, falling over nursing his wound. The other man, however, wasn't drunk, and he was quick to react, grabbing his own dagger and putting it to Lena's throat, without meaning to, she backed up against the wall, his hand resting on the wall behind her

The man spoke after a few moments of small struggles from Lena "now look here-" _hiss-thump,_ an arrow appeared in his hand that was on the wall, making himself pinned to the wall, after a small gasp of pain, he looked back to see a hooded figure merging in an out of the darkness, the hooded figure spoke "let go of the girl, or you may find your self pinned to that wall for a lot longer then you would like". Lena took no time hesitating, kicking the man in the shin, causing him to bend over in agony, therefor causing more pain to his hand.

The hooded figure was a ranger, Lena knew, and that didn't stand well for her, as she was a petty criminal, she decided she needed to get out of there. "Not so fast, Lena" the ranger said quietly. Lena stopped midstride and looked at the ranger, shocked "how do you know my name?" she asked.

"Do you know what a rangers job is?" the ranger said, taking the cowl off his cloak, the removal of it revealed a ranger with brown eyes, and a fresh young face, not what she was expecting. "It's to collect information, Lena, that's what we do. We go around without being seen, finding information for the king. Rather like what you can do, except we have different intentions" the man said, one eyebrow rising.

"What's your name, ranger?" She said, rather uncertainly, not knowing how he would react. The man smiled " my names will, will treaty. "So, will treaty, how does one, if they wanted to, become a ranger?" she said, more uncertain again.

She woke up from having the dream she always did, the night roughly two years ago that changed her life entirely. Breathing heavily, she noticed the time using a trick Will showed her, it was around 2 o'clock. She was startled, will was there. "How long were you there, will?" Lena asked, the drowsiness of sleep still holding her. "But the question is, what would you have done, if I wasn't will?" he said then answering in a friendly tone: "for about twelve minutes, you doing the thing you always did, were you having the dream again?" she looked down, a slightly crestfallen face making another appearance on her face. He sat himself down on the chair near her bed, "your old life is behind you Lena, I know that you think that if you fail, there won't be a future for you, but you must know that your doing well, all most mediocre in fact" he said, with a slight smile remembering halts highest praise to him when he was an apprentice. "Anyway," will said, knowing it was best for her to get her mind off things "you need to pack your saddles, we need to be off just before sunrise." Her mind was racing "where will we be going? Is it dangerous? Where's Alyss? Is she coming?" Will smiled, reminded of him of himself at her age. " if you asked one question at a time, maybe you might get an answer" he replied mimicking the drawling voice of his former teacher. "That's why where leaving soon, I because I don't want Alyss to think that she has any chance of coming" he continued" now get packed, we 're going to castle Araluen." And off they went.

**Ok, that's done:) now we're going to get to the good stuff, I hope. Any suggestions to the story would be great. If you want to know more about Lena (trust me I've got more on her) reviewing will get me to focus on more things in the story, and make writing it a priority**


	5. Chapter 5

**ok all, i have this chapter as kind of a nessersary filler, tell me if you want more uploads (daily) in the reviews, the blue button is amazing, you should press it.**

**the story is pretty convoluted for the first 10 chapters, but then it gets good. trust meeeeee**

In the early of morning, the bite of the cool morning air tickled Lena's face, refreshing her cheeks, widening her eyes. The mist of the morning air hung particularly low, she thought. The early morning sun stretched rays of sunlight over the fields they passed, making it shine on the dew. She was particularly quiet today as she considered what will had told her about what they were doing, which, she decided, wasn't enough for her.

"So this mission," she prompted. Will smiled inside, he thought she going to ask a question sooner or later. He prompted her "so this mission?" he said, reinstating the mock-weary voice his former mentor favored. "Is the mission just to castle Araluen? Who's coming? Is halt coming?" asked Lena. Will thought to himself for a moment, he himself when he was an apprentice always wanted to know what was happening, but in a different way, he always asked what something was, or how to do something, or how things were going, but he noticed that Lena asked about who's and where's, so she'd be prepared to face it on her own. Will frowned, she still didn't trust him to deal with whatever lied ahead, and it had been two years.

He decided that her role at this point in time was for her to trust him, and in natural extension, what he taught her. "Our mission objective at this point in time is to go to castle Araluen. There we will be briefed on the next course of action," he said, trying to make the matter seem final. Lena looked down at the reigns she was holding, knowing she had done something wrong, and decided she would keep herself quiet.

Will heard a faint rhythmic staccato noise behind him, forgoing a rough clattering noise, will knew who it was by tug's reaction on the matter. It was halt; tug snorted in a way to suggest that the person was not hostile, but he knew there was another way to find out who someone was. He decided there was a practical lesson in this.

"Lena, when traveling, what is one thing you should never do?" Will asked her. Lena's eyes shot up "never fall asleep?" Will replied with a stern expression "yes that would help, but what does a ranger do when they're riding?" Lena thought hard for a second "searching for possible sign of danger?" Will smiled "yes, but then as a ranger what do we do best?" the staccato noise was a bit louder but Abelard changed gait to match Florence and tugs, will estimated he had 5 minutes till he properly caught them. "Um . . ." Lena thought aloud. Will then said, "Why do we move silently and without being seen?" Will prodded Lena's thoughts a little further. "To see with out being seen, to hear without being heard!" she said in exclamation.

"So if you listen quietly, what can you hear?" will again letting her join the dots together. Then she heard it, roughly 3 minutes from their position. It was similar to the horse's gait that they were riding themselves, if you listened intently, you could hear the distance and slight difference to their own horse. "Now, don't turn around, an enemy that doesn't know that we're aware of them gives us an advantage that they can't make up" will continued "now use the technique on our horses to stutter their stride. And they did so, digging there left knee into there horses shoulder, the horses reacted to the command taught to them by old bob, stuttering their stride only slightly, changing the gait completely.

The other rider, unknowns to Lena, was out of gait but quickly moved his horse back into gait, using another technique taught by old bob. "Wait, isn't that also what ranger horses can do?" Lena inquired.

She thought to her self for a second. If the rider has a ranger horse then he was a ranger, if he is a ranger in Redmont fief, he must be- hisss phew! An arrow flew right past Lena's Head, landing ten meters to her left. "Halt! It took me a while for me to work out it was you!" she exclaimed.

They stopped to let him catch up "well that is good, its good to see Will is actually teaching you something" he said with a smirk in wills direction.

After a short catch up from them all Halt stopped them, "we need to camp here for tonight." Will, slightly confused, asked, "Why aren't we continuing to Araluen?"

"We aren't going to Araluen, we're going to Skandia, and Horace will rendezvous with us, right . . . here" halt said, as he dropped of his saddle, already pitching his tent off the side of the road. Will and Lena followed suit, pitching their own, halt spoke up, and said, "ok the first order of business is probably the most important, Lena I need you to be the person to help me do it" Lena's head snapped up, ready to engross herself in halt's every order, he continued, "we need some coffee made, Lena, I need you to get fire wood and kindling." He said with smirk, seeing Lena's reaction of betrayal. She went into the woods that surrounded them.

After a dinner of Wills well renowned stew, and even second helpings of it, many cups of coffee, and a bread that halt had taught Will how to make some years back, called damper, the trio decided that it was time to get down to business.

"As you know will, I have been scouting the Temanjai for their general numbers, troop state, what they were planning to do, but instead they Temanjai are, well in a state of ruins, a bigger, more organized army came in and decimated them" he said as he poured another cup of his exalted drink, "the problem is, we know who they are; the italinese." Will decided that it was his part to speak; "who are the italinese? They seem a pretty hard army if they took down the Temanjai." Halt sighed, he felt the same way as well, if the Temanjai so wished, an army of 20,000 troops would take the whole entire west, if they weren't united

Halt spoke up, "yes, this is a whole different ball park, the italinese fight in a very well rounded way, their attacks are fast, but they don't have much weakness in armor or arms. They can travel fairly quickly from place to place, as they don't lug siege weapons about, everyone is trained to cook, so the unit can distribute food to themselves, not the whole army. They can make sea craft if they hit a beach, as each unit has an architect and all of them can build siege weapons. Their whole culture relies on their army; every man who is from that nation by birth is trained in the army, with each one gaining special traits that benefit each unit. The slave's farm, the women clean." He continued "but Horace knows more about them then me, he's been there, went there last year actually"

"It did help being able to sneak around itilaner, hearing everyone's conversations" a man said behind halt, who replied "Yes but you didn't fool me, you sounded like a one legged tap dancer in a porcelain factory, didn't you?" the man, also known as Horace, was dumbstruck "how did you know?" halt replied, facial features hidden by his cowl "I've been doing this for years Horace, have some faith"

Little did he know that halt was quite surprised about the sudden appearance of the oakleaf knight.

It was about dawn when the four companions left their former campsite, heading to wards a cove where the viciously graceful vessel, _wolftiger, _was docked, and they went aboard quickly, halt a little less so. Their horses, _Florence, Abelard, tug and kicker,_ were put aboard the _wolftiger_ with the custom hull that was made for the boarding of horses.

Ernie, the skirl for the wolfship walked up to halt, and boomed in a peevish way "you do know what season this is?" halt looked at him with a death stare "what season is it?" he said. Will answered, slightly nervous "the season that the stormwhite is worse."


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, this Is an uber short one . . . I hope yall like it, and I hope it makes sense, hopefully.**

Thanks to my shiny amazing new beta reader **JustaBunchaHOOPLA****, who does some great story's, so check that amazing author out if you would like to never leave this website.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not john Flanagan, unfortunately, but fortunately I'm not Justin Beiber **

Chapter 6

After the attack on the Temujai, the Italinese camped on the beaches of the Meridian cove; the only cove in the northeastern steppes, ready to make further preparations.

Their emperor said that the Araluens must fall to their knees at all costs. The emperor himself decided to come also, although his presence was unnerving and he kept mostly to himself, preferring the confined spaces of his tent.

The constant sound of waves penetrated the Italinese camp as they made boats. As part of a regime of the emperor, every man was able to make all of the siege weapons and boat craft they needed. One man in every unit would be a master carpenter, allowing every unit to make a boat for themselves, thus making them self-sufficient, relying on resources around them. They could lay siege on a castle without lugging siege engines around, making their speed and efficiency second to none.

Apart from the constant waves of noise and the intrusive noise of hammers hitting a nail, that wasn't the only activity the Italinese were doing on the beach.

On the beach were the usual signs of an army in camp, ten men from each unit were elected to set posts to protect them from attack, each unit had thirty small cooking fires situated nine tents away from each other, serving those nine men for cooking services. All of the tents were a credit to their uniform behavior, lined in perfect uniformed discipline, in rank order.

General Lageine stepped back from the planning table, ready to make his idea voiced. He wasn't the best of fighters, but he was one if Itelenia's finest tacticians, born from a long line of tacticians and planning advisers, he was able to see the plan needed at hand, see through the problem, and find an unsurpassed solution.

"Men, we fought and dominated many countries that have tried to stand in our way. We have slain many great armies, and have made a name for our nation in the southern hemisphere of the world."

He looked around a gathering of legion commanders, trainers and generals who nodded their approval. "The countries we aim to defeat are a stubborn and well organized enemy, who will not be defeated by a simple head on fight. No, we need to fight them from more than one angle."

He pointed at Hibernia. "We know from intelligence that this country has a weak, unstable military. The only man that could be a pain in our sides is King Sean of Conmel, who is a wider scoped tactician then any of the other five kings of Conmel. But I've hired someone to deal with him. With the king dead, Conmel will be in turmoil."

He pointed to Galicia. "This king is hardly any resistance to us; they have no formal organized authority or military like us. They will be twigs to our fingers."

He pointed then Picta, and to Celtica and to Seacliff island. "If we take two thirds of our troops to Conmel, and one third to Galicia, we can use the ships and such as a tool." He continued, " The two thirds from Conmel that are sent can then split into two forces, one going to Seacliff, a peaceful village island that is expected to maintain a small force for garrison, hardly any match for us at all. And the other going to Celtica, a small country that has been ordered to keep a standing force of men, but to our intelligence, they only maintain a quarter of the necessary force enforced by the Araluens. Then, we will be set up for two forces at the western side of Araluen." The men grinned, this seemed like a breeze.

"Now they will be our main force, but for all purposes, they are but a distraction." he saw the smiles of faces turned into a face of confusion.

"The last force, from Galicia, as it will be taken first. They will take a fleet from there to Picta, slowly killing and burning all the villages in the area." General Lageine took a breath; he was excited, his excitement overflowing into others emotions'.

"By the time its spring, our messenger system will quickly be put in place, sending a message to the Pictian force to attack castle Norgate, an easy victory. They will lay siege to it in a prolonged way, causing a message to Araluen to gather troops to send there. While that's happening, the two forces will attack a weakened countryside.

"Meanwhile, castle Norgate will be quickly taken over after a week of prolonged siege, making a fortification for defensive purposes, allowing us to recover troops that were injured, losses, and more."

A good planner always planned for losses. "Once forces have gotten to castle Macindaw, they will find that that's been taken also."

He kept going. "So while they try to attack us in Norgate and Macindaw, the main force will attack everything. It's a master stroke of a plan, simple, but a three pronged attack is what we need." He spread his arms out in a gesture to welcome any questions "Is there anything you're unsure of, generals?" he said.

One man spoke up, he was about the age of forty heavily, and one shoulder of his sagged a little. It was probably because of heavy lifting on one shoulder.

"Who are the people you hired to kill King Sean?" the man asked.

General Lageine smiled, his smile being more of an impression of wolves baring their teeth.

"Genovasens." was all he said.

**Psssstttt ill tell you a secret, its incredible . . . see there is this amazing blue button at the bottom of this page, if you press it, you will be teleported to a land of magic, where pixies and dwarfs exist, and you can write things about my story . . . hahah hope yall like it . . . cheers ;) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Writers note: I'm not sure if this chapter is possible but I'm just going to say that its Fanfiction, people do shit like this all the time. I'm bringing to you perhaps the most original thing in this story, the one and only, the amazing, incredible, inevitable, {insert descriptive phrase here}, {insert another} Pritchard! I think he deserves a bigger mention then a couple of lines in the Lost Storyies "he tightened my bow technique up quite a bit"**

**WHATEVER! If Halt came from Pritchard he should be awesome.**

**Anyway, I've been told my story is pretty good except for capitalization mistakes, so thanks to JustaBunchaHOOPLA for Beta reading chapter 6, and this one. Thanks again to Bralt for reviewing me, and PM the hell out of each other, it's kept me writing.**

**And **Brisingr2442**, who has the idea of the same type of thing, but his is way faster and better. If you want to read a story that is about a massive impending battle between a ridiculously expert army force and the whole entire western countries, read War for the West, amazing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice or any of its characters (except Ernie! And Lena!) but I do own a lovely acoustic guitar, I call her Ashley!**

Chapter 7

Pritchard looked down at the town square of Dun Kilty, looking at the people in the trading markets as they flocked around from stall to stall, bargaining, trading, and haggling. For years he had been searching for the presence of them. He was looking for the Italinese, a fierce fighting nation in the south. He knew that it was an inevitability that they would decide to try to dominate the western side of the world.

He had been looking at different tactics the Italinese used to defeat isolated nations, coming to the conclusion that they would somehow attack Hibernia, which would only come to make a strong foothold for Araluen. Since King Sean was the only king in Hibernia that had any tactical prowess, as well as the ability to have any control over his troops, they were going to kill him somehow.

He decided that the best course of action for the Italinese was to hire an assassin, not just any assassin, A Genovasen.

He had been on the rooftop of a wool merchant's house for some time now, sitting and waiting for any movement from the Genovasens.

Pritchard was a very old man. Now around sixty he was weak and unable to fight like he used to, but he still had more than plenty of fight left, with some to spare. He couldn't go back to Araluen, he had already let Halt and Crowley down. He couldn't go back to them but he could still defend his beloved country. This was his last gift to them, the defeating of the Italinese.

It was now nighttime, and Pritchard was alert, on his seventh cup of coffee and probably not going asleep for the next week and a half.

He was shadowing around the town square when he saw it; a flash of a dull cream-like color reflecting the moonlight. It was an assassin.

The assassin was a failure at unseen movement Pritchard saw. He was _trying_ to blend into his soundings by using the shadows of the buildings that surrounded him, be would've been hidden if he was not walking at an uncaring pace, making sound as he went. To a civilian, he would've been a silent mover, but to a ranger, this was child's play.

This assassin however, wasn't your average Genovasen. He was a white robe, a king killer. King killers were a special breed of Genovasens almost the equivalent of an elite. They were taught acrobatics; able to climb castles in short periods of time, get into the kings quarters, quickly kill the king and escape.

They were excellent melee fighters, able to fight with a wide array of contraptions built on their clothes; boot knives, throwing knives, swords and an eastern weapon known as a throwing star, a Frisbee like blade that allowed for an accurate range of perhaps thirty meters, able to effectively bounce off curved walls, killing unsuspecting guards. They used this and their ability to jump to a magnificent height and land gracefully to make a quick getaway.

Pritchard followed the man, edging nearer through the shadows. He was easily able to kill the man but he needed to talk to King Sean about defensive arrangements, and this was his bargaining chip.

The white robed king killer quickly bounded up between two closely built houses and on to the rooftops of the city of Dun Kilty. With the grace of a bounding cheetah, he ran across the rooftops as easily as if it was the earth itself. He knew he couldn't match the astonishing speed that the man was careening at.

Pritchard whistled to Marmalade, his horse. Recently he snuck into Araluen to talk to Old Bob; his new horse was from the same pedigree of his old mare.

He got onto the saddle of Marmalade and set forth at a canter. The man was two hundred meters from the castle. He needed to get there before him, so he could ambush the assassin before he went to assassinate Sean.

Pritchard reached the far western wall where guards were less frequent. He grabbed an arrow in his quiver. This arrow was not for killing, it was a harpoon arrow; built with an uncoiling rope that untied when released. The arrow was built to pierce wood and cling for a rough hold of 70 kilograms, plenty for Pritchard's weight.

He saw a door that was built into a room that held a stairwell on the main defensive wall, aiming for it, He visualized the perfect shot, he watched it fly in his mind remembering the saying he drilled into Halts head

"Visualize your shot a thousand times in your head, then when you release it, it will be perfect."

He hoped that Halt never actually stood there and visualized his shots a thousand times. He released, knowing that the shot was perfect. It thudded into the door biting into the wood until there was no arrowhead left to see, the rope uncoiled as the arrow flew making a fast passage up the wall. He quickly ran up the wall, using the arrows' rope as leverage.

Once he got up the wall he retrieved the arrow, coiling the rope up and tying it so it uncoiled the same way for next time.

Pritchard heard the rhythmic staccato steps of a bored sentry head towards him from around the corner. He hid in the shadow of the wall and his cowl as man walked past him, not even noticing the ranger.

The ranger was on the first floor of the castle, directly above him was a handsomely decadent balcony with a large door that had light that flickered and wavered irregularly through the door.

He quickly noticed that the doors were wooden; he retrieved his arrow that was used to get to the position that he stood. Quickly aiming, he drew and fired. He reached the top, panting, he went through the door cautiously.

The room he entered was a brightly lit room, with a generous fireplace and furnishings; the room was empty and silent, except the occasional splutter and the general cackle the fire breathed into the room. He walked to the door that led him into a drafty corridor, to his left he found a toilet and bathing suit, he continued on.

As he reached the end of the corridor he reached a large mezzanine, lit with what could be hundreds of torches. The mezzanine was circular; looking over the throne room of King Sean, the man he needed to protect.

He stepped into the very sparse darkness that was, giving him a view point of the throne room. The very second he was ready, a window broke in his direct right, he saw the assassin gracefully hope over the window ledge, quickly assessing the situation. His eyes passed right over Prichard's very position, not seeing his downfall. The man heard the approaching steps of his pursuers, quickly bounding over the handsomely crafted mezzanine railing, and landing on the ground like a perfectly choreographed dance, he spoke before he went to kill Sean, in a heavily middle eastern voice,

"I am here on this day to kill you, King Sean, on behalf of the Italinese empire" he unsheathed his sword about to strike king Sean, but he stopped, unable to continue.

A black-shafted arrow appeared in the center of his chest, then another in his sword arm, and another in his leg. He fell to the ground coughing up his blood, trying to breath, when a forth thudded into his throat, killing him.

Pritchard bounded down the mezzanine steps that connected it to the throne room. He reached the bottom of the steps and reached the throne when he saw the doors burst open.

"What the hell are you doing here, ranger?" said King Sean,

The assassin, the ranger, this seemed like a dream.

"Saving your life" the Ranger simply replied.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry guys, this one was a long one coming, however I've still been writing, ill post another today to make up for stuff, this one is small, but ill post another

Chapter 8

King Sean looked upon the guards that were bursting through the door, looking at Pritchard and seeing the bloody mass that was on the ground with arrows sticking out of him from painful areas, almost taunting them to see what they would do, that their master and his bow would inflict the same to themselves.

"Sir we are going to have to take you with us" said one very frightened sergeant of the guard.

The ranger merely looked at him and laughed "do you seriously think you would take me?" the guards were bewildered, the ranger continued "anyway, I would love to humor your frail attempts at protecting your king and serving your country, but I have to talk to king Sean, so I'm rather busy at the moment" he said as he put his bow on his back, unsheathing his Saxe knife carelessly to the faces of the guards, gently twirling it in his hand slightly admiring the dull sheen of his perfectly honed blade.

King Sean looked at the ensemble of guards, taking in the point that the ranger said. "Men, go take your posts up again, he could've killed me five times over before you came in, however tomorrow night I would like two men stationed by my side." the king said, sighing at his mistake.

When the men had left, the ranger re-sheathed his blade walking in purposeful steps to his study, which was to the left of the center of the throne room. As Pritchard walked beckoning the king to join him the king asked; "aren't you a little old to be a ranger?" he said not unkindly. The ranger looked at him, eyebrow raised "maybe its because I'm not a ranger" he said. The king softly face palmed himself at his stupidity, this man wasn't even a ranger! "Then who are you, pretending to be a ranger?" the king asked, slightly exasperated at the turn of his nights events. "I was a ranger, and would still be one if there wasn't a massive revolt some thirty years back." the ranger said, with sympathy to the king, he did just have his life attempted after all.

"But the revolt was for the better, I was able to train a certain prince how to become a ranger, a Hibernian prince" he added. The king gasped, this was the man who trained halt "well, now we know your not stupid" Pritchard said, "we know you can work out who it is, yes, I trained Halt." he looked upon the map king Sean had placed upon his wall. His heart sank a little as he looked upon Aruluens Island.

King Sean wasn't stupid, he saw the pensive state the ranger was in, he decided to wait a moment before he asked; "so what are you seeking to discuss with me? I believe that's what you wanted to do," he said in a gesture to show he had faith in the doppelgänger ranger.

"I want to warn you of an impending invasion by the recently discovered race of the italinese." he said in a matter of fact tone.

The king sighed at his real Unfortunate turn of events "so your telling me that this assassination was sent by them?" he whispered, slightly Annoyed that he had an impeding war on his hands.

Ok guys ill give you some cool advice, there is this magic blue button just below this text, pressing it will give me a slight tingling sensation on my neck . . .


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's the next chapter, tell me what you think, and if you have any suggestions and/or references that are wrong please tell me.**

**Thanks to bralt and justabunchofhoopla, amazing authors, check their stuff out.**

**Oh and "Jason" thank you for you review, getting the email about a review made me remember that I had a story to get on with. **

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**Chapter 9 – the sea lull.**

To be honest, the trip across the stormwhite wasn't as bad as predicted, albeit that halts guts were more outside of his body then inside for the first few days, however the trip was uncharacteristically calm.

"Many-a skandian folk tales talk about the calming" an old skandian hells men said, looking wistfully at his tankard, he was generally a half full kind of person, but it looked as if the brilliant yellow substance was evaporating out of his cup on its own accord.

He looked up at the ensemble of Aruluens and skandians at the table who had finished eating, he continued "every five-year or so, the stormwhite seems to subside of rage, becoming peaceful. Sailors from the Skandia would call it the angel's lull, or gorlogs peace. Some even think that the great whale skojlielitaya, uses his mighty tail to push the ocean into a frenzy, and say that he sleeps every five-year, giving peace to the raiders." he sipped his favored brew of beer appreciatively and added "but next year its worse, you mightn't of remembered Will, but I was on the ship of Eraks when you were captured, unluckily for you, that was the start of the five-year, one of the rougher five-year storms if you ask me." Will remembered the time he bared the toils of the infamous stormwhite surge, almost killing him and Evelyn with fright.

Halt looked up to Lena, who had only boarded a ship for the first time, and to his fortunate surprise, did not like seafaring very much at all. "It helps, Lena" he started in a sympathetic under tone "if you focus your mind on something else." Lena looked at him scornfully, in grumpy mood due to her condition "don't give me advice halt! Your not the best sailor in the world by my last call" she said briskly, quickly walking away to a small wooden window, omitting the contents of her stomach into the sea.

As the days past the Aruluens became more acquainted with the skandians, some vomiting also, Horace started playing an old skandian sailors game, called helmsman oars, a card game that started getting costly for him. "Dam! I was close that time," Horace shouted in frustration, he handed over three more royals to a smirking skandian.

"Let me have a go Horace" halt said, his cowl over his face.

One of the older skandians dealt him seven cards the next round. The idea of the game was to rid your self of all your cards by matching your card number with the dice rolled. To make it fair, each person was allowed to roll the dice in goes, if that person got doubles, and the dice equaled that card, he could give it to a person on the table.

Most people had house rules, so the game changed from table to table. You could also bet with others on things such as how many doubles you rolled and other various statistics, however, if you're the first person to rid yourself of your cards everyone else has to pay you a gold royal for every card they had left in their hand.

Will was busy in a corner of the ship for the first few days of the trip, talking to some of the skandians about the kind of wood they had on board. He decided he needed to keep Lena's level of skill with archery up, by building some contraptions on the ship where she could practice. She agreed, it would help her to get rid of her stomachs sudden rebellion to its contents.

She practiced all day shooting from the crows nest down to the roof which had been installed with targets, down on the poop deck from one end of the ship to the other, and when they hit a few places to keep their horses fitness well, she was able to take portable targets out and practice at extra long ranges.

The sailors where impressed with her uncanny skill as many skandians didn't have any skill with the bow. She was on the crows nest one particular time shooting at an extremely quickened pace, focusing on hitting the target, not necessary the inner ring.

Halt went up to will "do you know why she's doing this all day?"

Will shook his head "It seems if she's getting slightly obsessive over it, I mean, I know why she would be practicing, but now she's pushing herself past her limits, trying to get past whatever fault she has."

Halt leaned against the railings of the ship, looking out at the ocean "she's worried Will, she seems to think the challenge's she has to face she has to do alone"

Will nodded, looking down and sighing as he replied, still watching Lena as she loosed maybe thirty arrows before he talked "I've tried hard to get her to see that I'm teaching her and to trust me, but she's been alone most of her life Halt . . ."

Halt turned around, now seeing Lena fire her arrows "well she isn't now, maybe this will be the perfect opportunity for you to bond with her."

Will smiled, looking down at his feet "the perfect time to bond with someone is to be in a war with them. How ironic." Halt chuckled and walked away to leave will with his thoughts

It was around dusk when all of the sailors went into the main hull to eat, the man that was stationed on the crows nest was softly singing a sea chantey looking at the slowly fading light as it flickered and weaved through the uncertain surface of the war, using the rhythmic thud of arrows as a tempo.

The rhythmic sound of arrows against wood was of course by the constant firing of arrows that Lena was shooting, she was now on one side of the wolfship firing at a row boat that had a target attached to it, the rowboat was drifting roughly one hundred and twenty meters away, tied to the side of the beastly ship.

The target was almost completely filled with arrows, all of which were concentrated in the center branching out wards, she tried shooting from different areas of the boat, climbing up ropes and shooting, on the main roof and generally anything that was an obstacle to her shooting. She did this for roughly an hour and a half before Horace came up to her.

He watched a little longer before he interrupted her, "you know that the biggest part of practice is the recovery" he continued to walk towards her and watched as she went to draw her bow back, but he put his hand on her bow, lowering it down before speaking again "rangers are able to do more then shoot a bow, let me see you use those knives."

She looked at him with a slight bemused look, shrugged her bow onto her shoulder and she unsheathed her Saxe knife, he spoke up again, "now, do you know about the double knife defense?"

She shook her head; she didn't listen to will when he tried to teach her knife work "Sill never taught-"

She was cut off half-way through her sentence when Horace sighed and said quite offensively "Girl don't give me that bullshit, if you listened to will even a sentence more then you do, you would be twice the ranger, now listen to me; if you want to be a ranger at all you'd pay him some attention."

She looked at him, completely taken aback by Horace's reproachful tone "now I'm going to show you some techniques, they wont be any better then what will would show you, he's one of the best knife fighters I know, but when I'm finished I want you to practice with Will." she nodded, completely nonplussed by Horace's reprimanding.

They practiced for perhaps four hours, Horace showed her some different grips, and knife flicks and reaps, also using one knife and her hand to grapple, while her knife dug into vital spots. She was doing this for quite some time.

Watching them perhaps three meters away was Will, hiding in the ever-lengthening shadows of the day, he spoke up "now, have you taught her the double knife defense?"

Horace shook his head, he wanted him to teach he that "she's all yours" he said, and he started to move away. "No, Horace stay here, maybe you can be of some help, we need to show her why the double knife defense is important."

Will walked over to Lena and unsheathed his Saxe knife and he twirled it in his hand "now, what is one of the main advantage the Saxe has over other daggers or dirks in a melee context?" Lena thought about it for a fraction of a second before answering "it has an abnormally great amount of leverage and weight to it compared to other daggers for its size."

Will nodded, he knew that she was good at getting the balance and feel for daggers, "now this leverage you talk about is fairly good, but its against a sword, it is insignificant. Horace, swing your sword at me."

Horace did so, with one fluent movement he unsheathed his blade and swung it at will at a menacing cut, will's two daggers came up almost of there own accord, interceding with Horace's blade.

His daggers formed the iconic "X" shape that the daggers make when in the double knife formation. "Hold it there" will said,

"Now Because the Saxe has less leverage then the sword, we can use the other dagger to support it, and then we can-"

He brought the smaller dagger quickly to Horace's elbow, making a mime-cutting gesture "disarm him-"

Then he quickly slid the Saxe down the sword to the hilt of the blade, giving him leverage, flicking it out of the way, and making a menacing cutting gesture at Horace's pectoral

"Incapacitate him-" quickly ducked around Horace with his daggers, using his ankle to trip him off balance, bringing his blade to Horace's throat "and kill him"

He released Horace letting him sheath his sword and walk off, "I've told you about this before."

Ernie walked towards the to Aruluens with a thundering stride "what would you do against my axe!" Ernie boomed.

Will smirked, "I'd use my bow" he replied.

Ernie looked at him with an almost childish glare "but that's cheating" he said.

The man on the crows nest stopped his chanting, he saw something. He used his spy glass to see clearer, he saw another ship, it was a wolfship he knew, simply by its form, he could see it was an ornate wolfship also, but more importantly she was injured, smoking, she looked in bad shape "ship sighted Skirl!" he yelled. He saw the flag, clearer now, it was the Oberjarls signet "SKIRL, the _Wolfwind _has been sighted, she's hurt!" he added.

**Ok, there it is, I'm still updating, and I'm doing it till my chapters are uploaded: P. **

**Psst, Jason, get an account, and then press this magic blue button **

**Psst, everyone else do the same, unless you have an account, and then just do the second thing.**

**Dahm, just a bit off 2000 words this chappie ahwell.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, here is my next chapter; I think three is a pretty good deal for today . If I get a review in the next hour ill release another, just cause I can .**

**Please review, and if you have any cool names for wolf ships that would be sick **

**Disclaimer; I do not own rangers apprentice or any of its characters, however I do own a copy of the series, does that count?**

Chapter 10

It took three days for the _Wolfwind_ to be repaired. When fellow skandian ships are found in a bad state, the ships could be built onto each other with certain attachments, allowing them to repair the ship while being safely attached to the other ship. Luckily, the _Wolfwind_ hadn't been used in five years, meaning that resources and provisions were built up over time. They were able to fix their boat with their spare timber and canvas and not hinder the food for the other wolfship crew.

Erak walked off the _Wolfwind_ onto the wolftiger after they were cast to each other. The burly skandian wore a look of disgust on his face as he consulted Ernie about turning around "Skandia has been taken, we were one of the lasts crews to go." he looked down at his woolskin boots that protected his feet when Horace asked "did the legions do it?" but halt interrupted him before he answered "that's not important, what is important is where Gillian is, he was sent there for a six month to help hold Aruluens deal of the general defense treaty."

Erak shook his head "He went with Hal on the Heron, he said that he needed to go to nihon-ja" he paced through the ornate furnishings of the captains lounge, admiring a certain painting there before adding "he also said that they'll be attacking Hibernia, when we got the Sicilian message about the italinese, we got him to scout the where about of them, he found them in the meridian cove and heard plans that they were going for Hibernia to attack Araluen, many were ready for attack from them, but they came from Oceanside, they got off and took us from behind, we had to fight our way past them to get to the boats."

He shook he head in disgust "three hundred years since we had Hallasholm taken, why did it have to be taken under my leadership?" he continued "but they had so many ships docked, there were many simply floating at sea, full of men. They were letting us go, but not with out shooting at us with some kind of fire-liquid"

He looked down at the captains round table that was filled with the known continents of the world "where'd you get this?" he asked slightly interested, Ernie replied huffily, edging from the Aruluens ad he spoke "nicked it from Araluen some years back." halt raised an eyebrow "where exactly?" the skandian looked like a kid who was forced to apologize "that's need to know" he replied sheepishly.

The Oberjarls looked out of the window with mild interest, then he spoke up "hey Ernie, do you have a half-mast?" the skirl looked up, interested in the sudden motivation in the skirls voice "yeah, I have a spare one in materials, why?"

The skirl took a leather-skinned journal from a pouch in his canvas leggings "I was thinking that perhaps we can gather the remaining skandians at sea. They're all close by, they know what a green fire at sea means, we can call them by building a tall mast between our two crows nests, making a fire pot the top, once we have that, we can burn a green firelight to direct them in the night." He drew it in his book, showing the rough-sketched designs of the signal-fire mast.

It took a day and a half to make the "fire mast" as many called it. The result was desired. Within the first day two wolfship came; _wolfbear_ and _wolfeye_. They tied them self up with the other two ships, eventually forming a cast with the other to ships also, they offered support and helped fixing the remain damage to _Wolfwind_.

By the third day, they were seven wolf ships strong, casting them selves together and forming a pathway between them all. Erak decided that 250 skandians is enough to start a war, so he stopped the light.

One of the seven ships was the _Wolfwill_, which will decided he should pay a visit to Gundar, he was greeted by massive bear hugs and many offers to drink with them, which he accepted despite his much distaste to ale.

After a horn blew across the fleet of ships that were cast together the congregated boat crews all went into a boat called _Wolfwhale_, it was the largest wolfship ever made, easily fitting a 200-man crew. With all the men on it Erak could rally his men; "My fellow countrymen!" he yelled "we have lost loved ones and brothers, we have lost 300 years of bounty to the hands of the dreaded italinese" a massive surge of assertion formed in the throats of many. "Men we need to strike back!" many growled approval. "We need to outfight them, out maneuver them, we need to take control of the seas that we own, we are sea wolves!" he thundered, but his voice was drowned out by the many who were present.

After the sea wolves had gone back to there own wolfships, Erak quickly consulted with Halt, "what should we do?"

Halt thought through the situation, they didn't have enough ships to control the seas, but they had an army, and not just any army, an army of skandians, and of that, an army of battle hardened, blood thirsty and revenge seeking skandians. He wouldn't want to be the italinese.

But it was Horace was the one who spoke however, seeing the most obvious action was ahead of them "we need to go to Hibernia, it's where they're going, we need to go there too."

**So, if you noticed, those who have read brother band and have sharp eyes, this is technically going to be a crossover, except brother band isn't there as book series, how does one change that?**

**As you may have known, the review button below is helpful for me to have pressed and written on. You can contribute by telling me how crap my writing is, or you can tell me what inaccuracy's I have made there, go ahead and help me, anon.'s can review and flame if they wish. **


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